tonight i'm dressin' up for you
by chalantness
Summary: Drabble #4 - Artemis/Zatanna - "Halloween has always been their night."
1. drabble 1

**Pairing: **Dick/Barbara**  
****Word Count:** ~1,000**  
Kinks: **intoxication and altered states, masturbation, oral, names as a sign of intimacy, restraint, uneven breaths, wet dreams  
**For:** justplainsomething

**Note:** Dusting off those kink meme prompts from way back when and turning them into another drabble collection. If you want to submit more prompts, click the forum link on my profile to submit (:

... ...

This is absolutely wrong.

Even in her slightly intoxicated state (which she has Ivy to thank for, because she remembers being caught in the remnants of a pollen cloud when she was trying to save Cassie), she knows that this is _so wrong_. But it's not her fault. Honestly, what twisted game is Ivy trying to play, making her plants spew out spores that… that…

She doesn't even know. What kind of spore makes you dream about having sex with your best friend in the first class lavatory of an airline flight to God knows where?

Maybe Ivy was feeling sexually frustrated herself or something. It's not that unlikely.

Well, she doesn't know and right now, she doesn't care, because she woke up with her legs tangled in her sheets and her panties completely soaked and her sex throbbing and drenched. She's a young woman and her body has needs and it's perfectly normal. She's had sexual fantasies and wet dreams and she's masturbated before. It's not the first time this is happened and, okay, it's not the first time that picturing Dick has made her like this, but it's the first time that it felt this _intense_ and that a dream felt that _real_.

It made her _cry_. Like, she literally felt a few tears roll down her temple when she'd finally slipped her fingers over herself. It would've been completely embarrassing if she didn't have images of Dick bending her over the counter and taking her from behind clouding her mind.

"_Dick_," she breathes, pushing her fingers in harder and flattening her palm against herself and imagining that it's him.

Then someone lets out a soft, "Barbara," and she _yelps_, eyes flying open.

Oh, _God_…

Dick is standing in front of her door (which has already slid closed; _crap_, was she really too distracted to hear him come in?), lips parted slightly.

Her cheeks feel like they're on fire and her heart is beating so loudly she wonders if everyone can hear it from outside. _Anyone_ could've walked in on her, and she doesn't know whether to be thankful or mortified that it was Dick who did.

But when she begins to pull her hand away, he's at her bed faster than her intoxicated sight can register, grasping her wrist and holding her hand in place. "Don't," he tells her.

"Dick," she practically whines.

She's _so wet_ right now, but even if he weren't gripping her wrist, she doesn't think she could bring herself to continue.

"You don't have to stop because of me," he says lowly.

"I… I _can't_." She doesn't know whether she means she can't stop feeling like this or she can't continue masturbating while he's watching.

"Barbie," he whispers.

She takes her lower lip between her teeth to keep from whimpering. He hasn't called her that in forever, and it's kind of stupid how that makes her feel even wetter. She circles a finger around her clit and bites down, hard, her free hand tightening around her sheets as her hips shift upward in response.

Dick makes this noise from the back of his throat and pulls her hand away completely, and she whimpers his name. He presses a palm against her thigh and spreads her legs wider apart, lowers himself between them. And as desperate as she is for this right now, she reaches and touches his face, bringing his attention back to her. Her throat is dry and even if she could get the words out, they'd probably be too breathless for him to hear, anyway, so she pushes her thumb along the edge of his mask and knows he'll understand.

She threads her fingers through his hair when his other hand comes up, fingers tucking underneath his cowl as he begins removing it. She doesn't see his eyes as soon as it comes off because he's looking down.

But then he meets her stare just as his mouth lowers over her sex and his blue eyes are the last things she sees before she shuts hers, tossing her head back in a moan.

Dick moves his tongue against her lightly a few times before pressing harder, and she pulls her hands from his hair and practically claws at the sheets, her eyes fluttering closed. He licks up her center and closes her lips around her clit and she rolls her hips. This is so wrong. They shouldn't be doing this, especially right now and especially _him._

"Dick," she says breathlessly, and he flattens against her and she moans, "_Dick_," a little louder.

She hopes no one can hear them.

And _god, _if she weren't so desperate and if he weren't so _good_ at this, she'd be more embarrassed. Dick has always driven her crazy in like, every way possible, but she's never let him get the satisfaction of knowing this. She's never made anything easy for him.

But right now he's completely in control. She's practically chanting his name between these uneven breaths as her body trembles at every move his tongue makes, alternating between circling her clit and thrusting his tongue in and out of her. She's so close to coming that it's unreal, but some small part of her is terrified for this to be over. It's not like she thinks he'd ever do something like use this against her. She's just worried (terrified) what this is going to do to _them_.

When she comes, his hand is on her with his thumb digging patterns over her hip and the back of her hand is pressed to her mouth to keep quiet, though she's sure it's still obvious that it's his name that she's moaning into her skin.

She's starting to calm down when Dick takes her hand in his, kissing the teeth marks on her skin. She laughs breathlessly.

"Dick," she says, because she knows they're going to have to talk about this. He shakes his head and she pulls her hand from his, pushing her fingers into his hair.

"You inhaled a lot of Ivy's spores," he tells her, and she furrows her eyebrows in confusion. But then he's lowering himself between her legs again, kissing the inside of her thigh, and she doesn't know how it's possible that she's starting to feel wet again. "Let me help you," he says against her skin.

They still need to talk about this, but then he licks up her center and swipes his tongue over her clit again, and she closes her eyes and tells herself that _later_.


	2. drabble 2

**Pairing: **Dick/Zatanna**  
****Word Count:** ~1,400**  
Kinks: **restraints, bondage, gags, toys and devices, teasing, sexual frustration  
**For:** letliferoll

... ...

She supposes she should be thankful for the scarf (_her_ scarf) that's pushed passed her teeth, tied tightly enough not to hurt but to just muffle her words—or, more specifically, her _spells_. Maybe it's what's keeping her from escaping in the first place, but at the very least it's stifling the sounds of her moans.

She's not sure what any of this has to do with an interrogation.

Her arms are pulled over the back of the chair, her wrists cuffed to the back legs while her ankles are cuffed together underneath the seat, forcing her legs open with the corners of the seat digging into her thighs whenever she tries to move. The vibe pressed against her sex underneath the skirt of her dress is switched to one of the lowest settings, stimulating her into a rapidly heightening arousal while not providing anything close to relief. She's not sure how long she's been like this. She just knows that she's _wet_.

Across the hotel room an officer is standing at the mini bar, pouring some scotch into a glass and drinking a little more than a sip as his eyes scan the room, taking in all of furniture and clothes scattered between them.

Then he meets her stare, lowers his glass just enough for her to see the slight smirk on his face as he asks, "Are you ready to talk yet?"

She knows better than to try and answer. There's no way he'd loosen the gag and risk her spelling herself out of this.

"I didn't think so."

She resists rolling her eyes.

He chuckles, takes another sip of scotch and sort of just watches her from where he's standing. She can feel how flushed her cheeks are, her breathing uneven. And, okay, maybe the vibrator isn't the only thing arousing her right now. She's never had a particularly weak spot for a man in uniform, but she can make an exception for Officer Grayson.

She squirms a little, and the rattling of her handcuffs seems to snap Officer Grayson out of whatever trance he's in. He sets his glass on the counter of the mini bar and crosses the distance between them far too slowly.

"Quite a mess you've made here," he says softly, almost as if to himself. He tucks her hair behind her ear, laying his palm against her cheek in a gesture that feels too gentle and intimate to be between a cop and a highly suspected criminal. Not that she cares, though, because he murmurs, "You really _are_ beautiful," and she squirms again.

And again, the noise of the handcuffs snaps him out of his daze.

"Feeling okay?" he asks.

His lips curve upward into another smirk, and suddenly he's the cop that arrested her in the first place. He reaches between her legs, switching the vibrator higher, and she makes this noise at the back of her throat as she shudders.

"So, are you ready to confess yet?"

Despite her arousal, she musters up a defiant look. He shakes his head disapprovingly.

"Not the answer I was hoping for," he admits, feigning disappointment. He switches the vibe a little higher and gets down on one knee in front of her before sliding it up and down her center slowly, making her eyes flutter closed. "You're a very attractive woman. Of course, judging by the brazen outfits you wear, you probably already knew that." He circles the vibe around her clit once, twice, three times, and another shudder ripples through her, handcuffs rattling as she tugs against them. "Isn't that right?"

She moans through the scarf and he lowers the vibrations, bringing it down to push it into her just a little, making her moan louder.

"But those outfits are for work, weren't they?" She nods slightly, biting down on her gag as he presses the vibe in a little more. "If I'm not mistaken, you're a stage magician, aren't you?" She tries to nod again, but he's moving the vibe in only a few inches and then pulling it out of her, gradually raising the settings with his slow, shallow thrusts.

It feels _so good_.

"You probably make girlfriends and wives jealous. Men are always looking at you. At least," he leans forward, his breath warm against her ear as he pulls the vibe out and runs it slowly up her sex again and adds, "I know I certainly was."

He places a wet kiss to her throat, drawing the vibe in random patterns along her slick folds, and she tips her head back and _moans_, body humming with desire.

"I bet some of them show you a good time, too. It's nothing to be ashamed of, by the way." He begins circling her clit again, and she tries to roll her hips against it. "But I bet their partners weren't too happy." He quickly flicks the vibe over her bundle of nerves. Her body convulses. "I bet they were _seething_ with jealousy. And I bet you knew this, too. You hit two birds with one by encouraging these women to act upon their jealousy. You played innocent and ignorant that these men were cheating. You probably won them over, too."

He rolls the vibe over her clit and her hips snap in response, her breaths coming out in uneven pants.

"You encouraged these women to dispose of these men once you were done with them," he says, voice a little harsher now. He circles the vibe over her clit and then pulls it away quickly, making her practically scream into the gag. "You lure men to their deaths and women to their jail cells."

She shakes her head kind of frantically. Her body is _trembling_.

"Don't you?"

He asks this over the hum of the vibe. She hears him switch it higher, hears the humming become more intense as he holds it just out of contact with her sex. She rolls her hips, which only creates more stimulating friction against the cold chair. Her eyes flutter open, vision slightly blurry around the edges as she meets his.

Then he pushes two fingers into her, hard, and she sucks in a gasp as she arches her back as best as she can against her restraints.

"You're so close, aren't you? And so am I." He presses the vibe against her again, circling it around her clit again while moving his fingers faster and curling up. "Just admit what I've said is true and it'll all be over. Isn't that what you want?" He applies more pressure with the vibe, increasing the intensity just a little higher. She moans into the gag. "Am I right?"

And when she nods frantically, she's not even sure if she's responding to the first question or the second or both.

He presses the vibe against her clit, leaving it there for a few seconds before circling over it, fingers still moving in and out of her even as she throws her head back and moans through the gag as she comes.

Officer Grayson groans lowly from the back of his throat as he pulls his fingers out, switching the vibe back to a lower setting as running it over her wetness as she's coming down from her orgasm. He brings it back up to her clit, rubbing against it, and she knows that he can probably make her come again if he really wanted to.

But then he's switching the vibe off and setting it aside, setting his other knee on the ground as he reaches behind her to untie the gag, pressing a kiss to her lips that seriously makes her a little wetter as soon as the scarf falls from her mouth. She can probably spell her way out now, but she's too _exhausted_ to even try.

"You know," she breathes, "for a second, I really thought you were going to leave me hanging."

He chuckles, kissing her lips again. "I'd _never_ leave you, 'Tanna."

She smiles. "I know."

"How was it?"

"Very convincing," she laughs softly, letting him peck her lips again before reaching behind her to unlock the cuffs around her wrists. As soon as she's free, she places her hands on either sides of his face and kisses him in a way that probably would've been considered dirty if this were any other situation.

Then he reaches between her ankles, releasing the cuffs around them, and she brings her legs up and wraps them around his torso. "So," he says, "Any other ways you want to break in this hotel room?"

"I saw a small Jacuzzi on the patio," she tells him. "And I have this bikini I still haven't worn. I could use a sexy server to bring me drinks and take it off of me."

He smiles. "I'll go raid the mini bar."


	3. drabble 3

**Pairing:** Jason/Bette  
**Rating:** NC-17  
**Word Count:** ~2,900  
**Prompt:** (540): he's either a crazy bad problem or a crazy good orgasm. I just can't decide which one.  
**Kinks:** love/hate relationship; sex in vehicles; rough sex; begging/offering sexual release; orgasm denial/sexual frustration; biting; breaths; teasing; stranded together

**For:** the tumblr anon that made me ship them

... ...

When she finally gets out of here, she is going to _kill_ Barbara, because this is _her_ fault. Well, Barbara, and Jason's shitty truck.

Seriously, it belongs in a dump.

He got all mad when she told him as much, but whatever. Considering that they're now stuck on the side of this long, empty strip of highway at least a dozen miles away from Gotham thanks to the thing breaking down, she thinks that he has absolutely no right to be pouting over her insulting his piece of junk car. And, naturally, as if her night couldn't get any worse, they get almost no reception where they are and aren't even sure if any of their texts got through since they couldn't get enough of a signal for a two-second phone call.

Like she said, she is going to _kill_ Barbara. And she may end up killing Jason before someone finds them.

"Are you really not going to talk to me, Princess?"

She glares at him for good measure and then angles her head away. She's sitting on the passenger side of his truck with her body angled, legs dangling out the door (which is only open is because he wouldn't let her slam it shut), and he's just leaning against the side of his car, arms crossed over his chest and his eyes lingering on her.

"Bette," he tries.

"Shut up, Jason," she snaps.

He frowns, and no, she's not letting the fact it somehow makes him look adorable and sexy at the same time get to her.

She only agreed to go on this double-date because Barbara was being Barbara and panicked at the last second even though she and Dick have been stupid for each other since they were in _grade school_. So she agreed to go with them to this really fancy restaurant in the next city over, and, okay, maybe she wanted to kill Barbara earlier when she found out right before their date that she'd be accompanied by Dick's delinquent, kid brother Jason Todd. She remembered how he was when they were all younger. She did _not_ like him.

But he was actually kind of pleasant for a while. Obviously studying abroad for college did a lot of good for his maturity, or at least enough good for her to actually be civil with him and share a few decent conversations while Dick and Barbara were having sexual tension across the table.

She was actually having _fun_. There were a few arguments, sure, but she's Bette and would rather have a heated debate than sit around awkwardly and share small talk.

But then he was kind of being an ass on the ride home and then _this_ happened and, yeah.

She's back to not liking him.

Jason sighs heavily, annoyed, and somehow that ticks her off even more. She should've not been such a good friend and gone home with Barbara instead so that Dick could've gone with his brother and ended up stuck here. At least he's known Jason a lot longer and built up a tolerance to not strangle him whereas she's about to if he says _one more thing_.

"Look, Princess—"

"Stop calling me that!" Jason blinks, surprised by her outburst. "Considering that you're of a _higher_ social class than I am, you're hardly one to talk."

His expression hardens. "I wasn't born into it," he reminds lowly. If it's supposed to sound threatening, it doesn't work.

"I'm not being insensitive to the fact that, yes, your life before was freaking hard and I sympathize with that," she says. "But you've been pretty well off since Bruce adopted you years ago when you were _twelve_, and, yes, maybe you deserve it after everything you had to go through, but I still have to work my ass off while things get handed to you."

"You've been friends with Dick pretty much your whole life," he reminds. "You could get anything you want if you just asked him, or Bruce, for that matter. They wouldn't have a problem if it was Bette Kane who's asking for something."

The way he says her name is… _unsettling_. It doesn't sound mocking or disgusted or anything. It almost sounds _endearing_, somehow. Maybe that's just the cold talking.

"I'm not a charity case."

"So why are you complaining?"

"I'm not!" she snaps. "I'm just saying that while I may be fortunate, I'm not _spoiled_."

She watches his eyes widen with understanding, and maybe being so pissed at him just because he called her spoiled makes her a brat, but whatever. She doesn't appreciate the assumption that she gets things handed to her. She's fortunate to have the family and friends she has, but everything else within her control, both good and bad, she's earned.

"_That's_ what this has been about?" She rolls her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. "You're such a liar."

"Excuse me?"

He's smirking now, looking entirely smug, and she narrows her eyes into slits. "You've always acted so confident, you know? You go around and do and say things because you want to, like nothing worried you. But that's all an act, isn't it?" He steps closer, grips the frame of the car above their heads. "You actually _care_ what people think of you."

"Wanting to make a good impression and actually caring about people's opinions are two different things," she tells him. "And your assumption couldn't be any more inaccurate. If they're not important to me then I don't really _care_ what they think of me."

"But I called you spoiled and that pissed you off." He arches an eyebrow, leans in so that his breath is warm against her face as he adds, "So you must think highly of me."

"You have no idea how little I think of you."

"Nice comeback, Princess."

"Fuck you."

He _laughs_. "That's not very ladylike," he tells her.

She huffs, twists her body away as if it'll make any difference or put any more distance between them, but whatever. If she keeps staring at his smug little face then she's going to end up punching him or something, which Dick and Bruce probably wouldn't appreciate. Except, he grabs onto her knee at the last second and holds her leg in place just as she's turning away, causing her legs to spread and her dress to slide up her thighs and gather around her waist. She shivers at the sudden cold against her skin, but also because she's…

No. _God_, no, she's not turned on by this, or by him. She's _furious_ with him.

"Jason, what the hell—"

He drops his hand from the frame of the car and presses it against her other knee, keeping her legs in place before she can even try to close them. "You said _fuck you_," he reminds, and when he leans closer and whispers, "I just want to make sure Bette Kane is a lady of her words," into her ear, she sees her breath in the cold air as she exhales shakily.

"You wouldn't…" she begins, but she's cut off when he presses their lips together and she fights off a whimper because, _fuck_.

She wants him.

Why the hell does she want him so badly?

He brings a hand up and pushes his fingers through her curls, nipping at her bottom lip as he tugs on her hair a little, and she kind of loves it. She grips his shoulders, digs her fingernails into his leather jacket as she hooks a leg around his waist and shifts, bringing their bodies flushed against each other's.

He kisses her, hard, grasping onto the headrest for some sort of support as he swipes his tongue across her lips.

"Are you sure you don't think of me?" he asks against her lips, because she's kind of rolling her hips against his and brushing her lace panties against the front of his pants. She wonders if he can tell how wet she's getting.

He probably can.

"Shut up," she breathes, tugging at his leather jacket, and he helps her push it off of him.

"Princess," he says.

She pulls away, feeling her cheeks flush. "I told you not to call me that!"

He smirks and pushes her back against the bench-seat, brings their lips back together as he grinds his hips against hers. She lets out this breathy sound and, yeah, she's catching onto the fact that he's trying to rile her up. Not that that's necessary or anything, because she's still incredibly pissed, except instead of wanting to kill him, she wants to fuck him.

She wonders if that counts as progression.

He places his hand at her hip, making her shiver at his cold fingers as they slide the hem of her dress up her body, and she struggles to remove her coat before tossing it aside. He's laughing at her because maybe she was being a little eager there, but she hardly cares, because a few seconds later he's tugging the dress over her head and dropping it onto the floor of the car, which kind of pisses her off (that dress wasn't _cheap_). But she doesn't have time to berate him about it, because she's kind of shivering beneath him in just a bra and panties—both lacy and black with little bows at her hips and between her breasts—and he's making this appreciative noise from the back of his throat.

"_Fuck,_ I'm freezing," she mutters.

"Really?" he asks, and she has like, _no_ time to brace herself before he's swiping his thumb over the front of her soaked panties, and then she's shuddering for an entirely different reason. "You feel pretty warm down here to me."

"Stop teasing."

"Considering you're the one who's soaked through and has her legs spread for me, you're hardly one to talk." She meets his stare, and he grasps the waistband of her panties and tugs it up, causing her to let out another breathy sound as the material presses against her wet folds. "And teasing is _exactly_ what I had in mind."

She _whimpers_. She's not really sure how he ended up with all of the power here, but she sure as hell hates it either way.

And he doesn't do anything seemingly romantic, either, like try to kiss her again while he takes of her panties or take his time kissing her way down her body, and she's glad. It hardly seems like something that would happen between them (even though, technically, _none_ of this should be happening between them right now) and she doesn't need him to pretend that they have some sort of romantic relationship in order for this to feel amazing. You'd think that might be the case, but she's had one-night stands before because she has needs.

She's never been in love, so she can't really compare, but trust her: sex can still feel pretty freaking incredible without any of that romantic crap.

Honestly, right now, she thinks she likes it better this way.

He pushes her panties down her legs, tugging them off before pushing his hand against the inside of her thigh to spread her legs again. Then, without any warning, his lips close around her clit and he sucks, _hard_.

She moans loudly and arches her back, and he presses a hand to her hip to keep her in place as he teases at her bundle of nerves with his tongue a little more. She tries to roll her hips but she can't really move because he's holding her down, and then he pulls away and blows at her clit and she sucks in a gasp. He blows at her bud again, causing her sex to throb, and she presses the back of her hand against her mouth and bites her skin to keep from moaning as she moves her free hand down and pushes her fingers through his hair.

Then he rolls his tongue over her clit slowly and she breathes his name. She'll come in seconds if he keeps doing that.

"Not yet," he tells her.

Then he licks up her center and flattens his tongue just below her clit and she lets out a cry, tries to roll her hips again. He spreads her legs even wider as licks her center again, then pushes his tongue into her and starts thrusting shallowly.

She tugs at his hair, moaning into the back of her hand because, _fuck_, as much as she wants to come, that feels _so good_ right now and she kind of doesn't want him to stop.

She's so, _so_ close to an orgasm again when he pulls away from her a little, and the noise she makes—something between a cry of frustration and a growl—would be more embarrassing if she wasn't so desperate for him to get her off. He rolls his tongue over her slowly again, pressing down on her clit, and then pulls away completely.

She whimpers.

He skims his lips up her body, closes them around her pulse as she hears him undo his belt buckle. He bites down kind of hard, and then licks at the teeth marks he left on her skin as he pulls her hand from her mouth and tells her lowly, "Beg me for it."

Oh, _god_. She… She _can't_.

"Jason…"

He shifts a little, brushing his length against her slick folds. Fuck, he's _hard_. "You can do better than that," he says.

"Jason… Please, just…"

He slides his length over her wetness, just barely grazing her bundle of nerves.

She'll probably hate herself after this is all over and the lust has died down, but right now she _needs_ to come and she knows what he wants. So she looks him in the eyes, squeezes his bicep a little.

"Jason, I want you to fuck me."

And she misses the smirk he gets on his face, because then he's sinking into her in one, hard thrust, his hand between them with his thumb pressing circles over her clit. She throws her head back and cries out incoherently with her release, fingernails digging into his biceps as she feels herself clenching around him.

He continues rolling his hips through her orgasm, his thumb still rubbing over her bundle of nerves, and she digs the heels of her feet into the small of his back. She feels like _crying_, her orgasm is so intense, and the fact that he's not exactly being gentle, either, is probably why she feels the pleasure already starting to build up again even though she hasn't even entirely come down from her first orgasm. She can feel his entire length sliding in and out of her and she's moaning with every thrust, getting particularly loud when he angles his hips, bringing himself deeper and grazing her spot.

She feels _amazing_.

She can feel him everywhere, filling her up, his skin hot against hers, his lips on her neck as he nips at her skin, his hand in her hair as he tugs on her curls. She's never, ever had anyone treat her like this during sex. She thinks every other guy she's been with treated her delicately, like they were afraid to break her or something.

And it was good. But this is _incredible_, and it's kind of screwed up to think that she never would've discovered that this is what she likes if she didn't end up with Jason tonight.

She wonders if that's supposed to mean anything. When she can focus on something other than him inside of her, maybe she'll come back to that thought.

"Never thought I'd ever get Bette Kane to chant my name like that," he breathes into her ear. His voice sounds kind of messed up, and she knows that he's probably really close to coming, too. And she didn't even realize she'd been moaning his name in time with his thrusts until now.

"Don't get used to it," she tells him, then gasps when he thrusts into her, hard, making her hit her head a little against the door.

"I doubt anyone will ever make you feel like this." He bites down on the crook of her neck and shoulder and she lets out this little sound from the back of her throat. "They all treat you like a _princess_, but that isn't what you want at all. Good luck trying to find sex from now on that satisfies you, because I'm the only one who can give you what you really want."

She bites down on her lower lip to keep from doing something stupid like agreeing with him, because, _fuck_, he's right. He's totally right.

How did this happen?

When she comes for the second time, she digs her fingernails into his arms so hard that she thinks she draws blood, and she swears she must be imagining it when she hears him mutter her name as he's pulling out of her at the last possible second as he's reaching his orgasm.

She's breathing heavily as the hum of her orgasm is starting to die down, and he's just pressing against her a little, just enough to lie above her without crushing her underneath his weight. They're both sticky and kind of sweaty and gross, and he's pressing kisses over the teeth marks he left all over her skin, and she just feels _fucked_ in more than one way.

Jason Todd is and probably will be her best sex, ever, and somehow she manages to find that kind of exciting.

Like she said, she'd _fucked_.


	4. drabble 4

**Pairings:** Artemis/Zatanna  
**Rating:** NC-17  
**Word Count:** ~2,100  
**Prompt:** "Halloween has always been their night." + fanart (link on profile)

**A/N:** Part of my August Drabble-athon. It's not a kink meme prompt, but whatever, I'll just put all NC-17 drabbles here from now on.

... ...

Artemis has, somehow, ended up spending every Halloween with Zatanna since that night they took their motorcycles out for a joyride and had their little adventure with Harm and Greta in Manhattan.

Their second Halloween together, they had a run-in with Harley Quinn in Gotham that may or may not have ended with a few explosions, and the year after that, Batman sent them in undercover to a fancy masquerade party being thrown by a mafia head hiding out in Seoul and they wound up setting the ballroom on fire. Last year was less exciting, because all they did was crash a costume party at an eighteen-and-over club and no one was, you know, trying to kill them or anything. (Well, this guy was hitting on Artemis all night and his girlfriend didn't find it amusing, so she probably had murderous intentions when she tried shoving Artemis over the side of the balcony. But at least there weren't any explosions.)

This year, Megan invited them to this frat and basically made it impossible to say no. Seriously, Artemis has no idea when the girl got so _manipulative_, but she pouted a little and said that she hardly gets to see the two of them even though they see each other all the time and they've never spent this holiday together and tonight they finally can.

So, yeah, they go with her to the party.

It's not that big of a deal, anyway, and Artemis could really use the night out since things with Wally have been _stupid_ lately. It's nothing serious, and they're not going to break up or anything, but it's been extra stressful and this will be a nice distraction.

The only thing is that you _need_ to wear a costume to get in. Apparently it's tradition or whatever. Artemis could care less, but it was kind of a last-minute notice and so she had to scrap something together. She just grabbed her Gotham Academy uniform from her mom's and shrank it a little in the wash. The skirt shows a little more of her thighs than it used to, and she can't button the top three buttons of her blouse over her boobs, but whatever. It's appropriately sexy and she looks a hell of a lot better than any of girls in slutty costumes. She slipped a headband on, curled her hair a little and did her make-up innocent and moderate, and Wally literally spit out his drink when she walked out of their room.

And Artemis feeling guilty about not spending time with Megan? That's basically thrown out the window when, after fifteen minutes of arriving, Megan gets whisked away by some friends from her psychology class. Artemis would be pissed, but then she sees Megan dancing and laughing and actually flirting with this cute guy that seems totally into her.

It's hard to be mad at the girl when she's having so much fun.

She has no idea where Zatanna is, though.

The girl can make friends wherever she goes and she can sure as hell take care of herself, so Artemis isn't worried about all of these drunk, stupid college boys swarming in and trying to take advantage of her insanely attractive best friend.

And shit, Artemis is straight and everything, but she can appreciate when a girl looks good and Zatanna? She's always been pretty, even when she was younger and shyer, but then she grew up and got even _sexier_ and now… Well, people have been staring at her sort of hungrily all night and Artemis doesn't blame them. She's supposed to be a biker chick or something. She's in this lacy, black and white corset and spandex shorts, with fishnets and boots that go up to her knees and a leather jacket and gloves that cutoff at the fingers.

Artemis leans against the wall, takes another sip of her drink as she pushes the thought away. This outfit isn't very different from the one she wears for the League, the newer one she knows Dick helped her pick out because she had a say in his Nightwing costume, and she'll never be able to look at Zatanna again if she starts imagining things now.

... ...

They last at the party for a little over an hour before they start looking for Megan to tell the girl that they're calling it a night. Megan doesn't seem upset that they're leaving so early, either, just hugs them, says that she loved seeing them and that they should hang out again soon and makes them promise to text in the morning.

They leave the party with their arms linked between them and talk about really random stuff on their way to the zeta tube. She told Wally before she left that she might just crash at Zatanna's apartment after, because she knew she was probably going to be drunk and the zeta tube near Zatanna's building is a shorter walk than the one by hers and Wally's place, and he said that seemed smart. And it's not like they _have_ to check in with each other all the time, but she texts Wally to let him know they got to the apartment safely and he replies saying that he hopes she had fun and that he'll see her in the morning and signs the text with _ILY_. He's done that for as long as they've been together and she actually really loves it.

"_Fuck_, I'm tired."

Artemis laughs, tosses her phone onto the couch before walking into the bedroom. Zatanna's kicked off her boots and tossed her gloves and leather jacket onto the floor, and she's sort of just lying on her bed in her corset and shorts and fishnets. She's obviously not going to change out of her costume anytime soon, and Artemis doesn't really feel like it, either, so she just slips out of her Mary Jane's, peels off her blazer and headband and drops them onto the floor. Then she climbs onto the bed and lies down on her side, facing Zatanna.

"I feel _old_," Zatanna says randomly. "We didn't even party that hard or stay out that late and I'm already lazy."

Artemis laughs. "Crime-fighting adds a few extra years."

"_Seriously_." She exhales, slides her hands over her stomach, and Artemis presses her legs together a little more because she can feel herself getting a little wetter. You can't really blame her, though, because she's always a little hornier when she's drunk and the fact that she can basically see down Zatanna's corset right now?

Not helping things.

Artemis feels like she could fall asleep in any second, but something (her arousal) is keeping her awake right now and she really hopes it just goes away. Or that Zatanna will fall asleep soon and Artemis can just sneak into the bathroom and take care of herself. It's wrong to even think like that, but this wouldn't be the first time that Artemis has been turned on by her best friend before. She's pictured being with almost all of her friends at one point or another, both guys and girls. They're all just really attractive, okay? And like, she's always been loyal to Wally, always been in love with him and probably always will be, but it's really not her fault that alcohol makes her hormones extra crazy and puts all these images in her head, right?

Right.

She closes her eyes, hoping that the exhaustion will just take over and she'll fall asleep faster.

Except it's basically the worst call, _ever_, because then the heat between her legs is all she can think about and she nearly yelps in surprise when something falls on her hip, eyes flying open to see that Zatanna's on her side now, facing Artemis. She shifts, tangles their legs together a little, and their chests are basically pressed together because she's so close.

"What's wrong?" she asks, eyebrows furrowed.

They used to have sleepovers all the time, and because their beds were twin-sized and small, the only way for the both of them to fit was basically for them to cuddle like this. It's something she only ever does with her and Wally, since Wally's big on cuddling (of course he is) and apparently so is Zatanna, because it always seems to happen whenever she's with the girl. Usually Artemis wouldn't mind it, but right now she's worried that she's going to feel how wet Artemis is and it'll freak her out or make things awkward or something.

"Nothing," Artemis breathes. Zatanna moves her hand lower, plays with the hem of her skirt a little before spreading her fingers over Artemis's thigh and squeezing lightly, and Artemis squirms as her hand travels down, lingering where the top of her knee-high socks meets her skin. "Zatanna," she says, almost like a warning.

She doesn't say anything, just hooks her fingers over the bend of Artemis's knee and tugs her closer. Her other hand is tucked between Artemis's hip and the mattress, her thumb teasing at the waistband of her skirt, and when Zatanna shifts her leg and ends up pressing against Artemis's sex, Artemis lets out a moan. _Shit_. Her head is sort of spinning right now, but she can't really think of anything because then she's turned onto her back and Zatanna's straddling her waist and pressing their lips together. Artemis can't really move at all with how Zatanna's sitting on her, which is kind of hot and frustrating at the same time, and she can feel Zatanna's hands between them as she's working the buttons of her blouse undone. She pulls her shirt open once she's done, slips her fingers under her bra and tugs at her nipple, pushing her tongue into Artemis's mouth when she gasps.

What the _hell_ is happening?

Zatanna shifts, moves one leg underneath Artemis's and spreads her a little more, her skirt falling around her waist. She grasps Artemis's wrists and pins them to the pillow above her head, holds them in place with one hand as the other slides down her front, slips under her skirt and…

"Oh, _god_…"

Artemis moans, tugs against Zatanna's grip as her fingers ghost over her wet folds. Fuck. _Fuck_. Then she feels two fingers pressing into her and the sound she makes would've been embarrassing if she wasn't so turned on right now. She bites down on her lip as Zatanna moves in and out of her slowly, but then she curls her fingers as her thumb swipes over her clit and Artemis's lips fall open as she moans even louder. Clearly, Zatanna's trying to get her to make all of these little sounds, and Artemis has no energy in her to fight it. Her voice sounds distant for some reason when she asks Artemis if she wants her to stop, and Artemis tries rolling her hips against her hand, squeezes her eyes shut and mumbles, "_don't_."

Zatanna starts moving her fingers again, teasing her bundle of nerves, but then pulls out and spreads her folds as she circles her clit. Artemis is kind of gasping for air, arching, and when she starts alternating between thrusting her fingers and circling her clit, Artemis feels her thigh start trembling. There's no rhyme or reason to Zatanna's motions, no pattern for Artemis to try and follow, just these slow strokes and these torturous circles over her nerves and these uneven breaths and sounds coming from the back of Artemis's throat.

She presses her head against the pillow, cries, "'_Tanna_," when she knows she's so, so close.

Zatanna curls her fingers, rubs circles over Artemis's nerves and brings her to orgasm within seconds. It's sudden and makes Artemis feel almost weightless, and she can feel her fingers still working on her as she comes, dragging it out even longer.

Artemis feels like she's trembling, and even when Zatanna lets go of her wrists, she doesn't even try moving them, just focuses on steadying her breathing. She'll ask what the hell that just was as soon as she catches her breath enough to, you know, get any words out, but the question must be in her eyes because Zatanna smiles and shrugs one shoulder.

"Curiosity," she says like it's an explanation, then smiles a little wider and adds, "And, you know… This is kind of _our_ holiday."

Artemis laughs breathlessly, because, well, _yes_, that's technically true, but _still_.

But instead of asking one of the dozens of other questions floating around her head, she just watches as Zatanna moves herself between Artemis's legs, presses her hand against her thigh to spread them a little wider. "Happy Halloween," she says, and Artemis laughs a little before she feels her tongue swipe up her slit and she dissolves into a moan.


End file.
